Project CyberSeraph
by SevenOverThree
Summary: It was everything he had dreamed of. Save the world, get accepted for who he was, and get the girl. In this case, one goth girl named Sam Manson. Unfortunately, it was a literal statement. Not a one speck of it had been real. Story preview, AU.


**Disclaimer:** The Cyber-Seraph plot idea belongs to me -So far as I know-, DP and all related characters belong to Butch Hartman.

**Authors notes:** Just the written form of an idea I had for an awsome little anime or comic, one of many swirling around in this brain of mine. Inspired slightly from a mix of Chobits and Transformers, (The movie that came out not long ago. Not the cartoon.) along with many varying storys I've read. On fanfiction, that is. Along with one or two comics on deviantart, and a song called 'Angels' by 'Within temptation', if I remember correctly. Wow. Lot's of inspiration for this story.

Anyway, enough of me, heres the slightly rushed prologue-type-thing.

**PS:** This is severely AU. Which means Alternate Universe, for you people who are new to the written fanverse, and have yet to learn the lingo. In which case: Welcome to my story, and to Fanfiction as well!

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It was everything he had dreamed of. Save the world, get accepted for who he was, and get the girl. In this case, one ultra-recyclo-vegetarian goth girl named Sam Manson. Unfortunately, it was a literal statement. It _was _everything he had dreamed of. Not a one speck of it had been real. And it had rocked him to his very core when he had opened his eyes after going to sleep on his nice warm bed, thoughts of both Sam and the days happenings still fresh in his mind, only to wake to giant metal wings jutting out of a half-cybernetic body, said body encased in a sort of techno-sarcophagas, the front opened up. That body was his, brand-new memories had told him. He had been an experiment, one of eight, and the only one that had lived. 

But why had he awoken from his tecnologically-induced coma? What purpose had there been in shattering his perfect world? How come he wasn't allowed the bliss of dying in his fantasy, instead of here, in this world where he was alone?

Questions roll through his mind, and the white-haired, metal-winged boy closes his eyes and trys to relax, trying to pull back the false reality he had grown into. But a white-robed man has entered the room, no apparant interest being directed toward the other being. His attention is grabbed however, when he glances at the teen, and sees tears rolling down his -the boy's- face, his eyes, one neon green and the other ice-blue, revealed.

"Why am I awake?" He manages to whisper. He knows not of anything around him, but does of his machine-created coma. There had been a reason behind his being in a coma for so long. So, why did he wake up just as everything was starting to go his way?

The scientist seemed extatic at first at the boys awakening, but knows that the metal-winged child is hurting. He knows of the world the boy had been placed in. Had been watching his life, both of them, from the very start. Yet now, he was awake.

His answer is filled with pity of some sort. "I'm sure you know. Or knew. You were designed, at first, as a weapon. The first successful hybrid of man and machine. But you where _too_ perfect, too human. you hated the prospect of killing. You ran. And I found you. You wanted out. A way to escape this world, in which the death of others was the only important thing to people. I put you into a coma. But I knew this would happen." The scientist seemed regretful at even entering the room. As if he never wanted the child to wake, either. As if the dream world of Amity was his bliss, as well.

"Knew what would happen?" The boy inquired. He wanted a reason. An answer, even a simple one word. Anything that would help him.

"You were given a warning system, a sort of automatic 'on' switch, if you will. All the years you were down here, you had been safe. We were lucky enough to stop the war before it came here. But now that the war has started up again, your machine-based systems needed you awake, or 'on'. And when you were in the coma, you were considered 'off'.'" The boy finally manages a glimpse at the cloaked mans face. Familarity billows out in front of him like a snowy blizzard.  
The scientist looks nearly identical to the Time-Lord ghost, Clockwork.

"Clockwork?" The boy mutters, hoping for just a second that his entire ordeal has been but a messed up dream. The scientist, however, shakes his head back and forth, crushing any hope.

"No. I created the characters in Amity, basing each one off of somebody of this plane." The childs eyes lit up. "Clockwork, myself. Maddie, my daughter, Jack, a friend of mine from the military, Vlad, my own father, Jasmine, my daughters imaginary friend. And Sam..." A black flame began to smother the boys hope. Something was wrong. The older mans voice was sad. "Sam was based... On my wife... She died from bullet wounds as we were trying to escape the of capture of our old hometown." The boy choked. No... Sam... was _dead_ in this world?" Sadness was replaced by fury in the childs angry eyes.

"Shut me off. Take out the warning system. Anything! Just put me back... Anything to be with Sam again..." The scientist surpressed a light sob, but nodded all the same.

"I have to warn you though. Once I do this, you'll probably never be able to wake up." The child grunted, shaking his head back and forth. He doesn't care. Only want's his Sam again. To be with her, to hold her. To hear her voice and breathe in her scent.

"I don't care. I don't care if I _die_ in there. At least I'll die with my friends. I'm sorry, Clockwork." He says, calling the man the ghosts name purely out of habit and how he looks.

"That's alright. I'd do it too, but you need them... _Her_, more than I do." The scientist fiddles with a nearby machine, and soon, the boy feel a part of him leaving. The warning system, no doubt. "Goodbye... Seraph." A button is pressed, and the boy, Danny, he says to himself, feels the cold leaving. Black fills his vision for an instant, and he opens his eyes. A Rocket-ship decorated ceiling greets him. But when he gets up, something new is in his room.

A book, nameless. He opens it, and is in awe at it's contents. It's a journal. But not any journal. A journal with his name inscribed into the inside of the cover. It's his own handwriting, apart from a peculiar note he tucks away for later. The entrys describe a life and world he never recalls. A world filled with death, and people who only care for such. Written from the point of view of a young boy calling himself 'Daniel', on the run from military base trying to catch him. An adventure across continants.

An adventure in a world he hopes to never again see with true eyes.


End file.
